danganronpa_fanfictionfandomcom-20200216-history
Dangan Ronpa: Unsere Sommerende/Prologue (2)
Continued from Prologue (1). The time in between me entering the academy and me finding myself where I am now is completely blank. It might as well be instant, really. Whatever the case, I now stood in a classroom, which, judging by it being entirely white, matching the school’s outside colour scheme, was inside the building that I had entered. The desks and chairs were white, and, of course, so was the whiteboard. Glancing out the window, to check one more time if I was indeed in the same location I was in previously, I noticed that the windows were covered in metal bars, which was… Pleasant. At the time, I supposed that they were put there to prevent people from jumping out. For some reason, it only occurred to me then that there were numerous other people in the class. I had noticed there were others before, but being so caught up in my disorientation at my apparent relocation, I hadn’t payed close attention. They all looked to be my age, and taking a quick count, there looked to be about fourteen of them. It wasn’t much of a logical jump at that point for me to assume that this was my class. Besides, judging by some of their outfits, they were unique individuals, that’s for sure. I would have asked them how I ended up here, but they looked equally disoriented as I was. Then, the silence was broken by the swinging of nearby doors, and everyone in the room looked over at the source of the sound. “Nice weather we’re having, huh?” A boy with oddly-shaped orange hair was standing in a supply closet at the back of the room, the closet doors still moving a little from their spare momentum. Judging by his voice, he was probably from the U.S. The room continued to be silent after this for a bit, before being interrupted by speech again. “… What happened?” said a small, blonde girl in an old fashioned dress, while trying to ignore the jokester over in the closet. “I-I mean, how are we?... I’m assuming everyone just had the same experience, right?...” “Mm.” Another new speaker, this one sounding sharper in tone. She was another blonde girl, wearing a brightly coloured military uniform of some sort. The other girl seemed a bit startled by the sudden response, but continued speaking anyway. “… So, somebody knows what’s going on, right?” “I think it’s some sort of dumb prank or something…” Another voice with another new tone, sounding apathetic. The voice came from a girl with a some facemask-looking-thing and exceedingly long black hair. Ok, yeah, I was a bit overwhelmed by all the new people, so I know this is probably going a bit quick for you, but I was generally able to keep up. “I’m just gonna go to… I dunno… Somewhere more quiet…” She spoke as she shuffled towards the door that served as the exit to the room. Turning the handle, she... Well, actually, not turning the handle. It was locked. This was concerning, to say the least. It seemed that we were all trapped. Well, no, it didn’t seem like it, that’s exactly what it was. I might sound calm now as I recount it, but I can assure you that the room gained an air of repressed worry. “… We’re gonna die.” This time, it was a guy with dark, flowing hair and some weird necklace-looking thing. “We’re trapped. We’re gonna die, aren’t we?” He was visibly sweating, his eyes darting around the room. The responses and talking kept going and going, and it became a bit of an effort to keep track of it all, up until, suddenly, an odd sound emanated over what must have been the school’s intercom. It was a small jingle, but instead of a bell or some sort of electronic noise, it was the sound of a harpsichord. Something about it felt oddly creepy, as if it were some sort of lurking skeleton, chattering and whispering dark incantations upon the roof of the building. Following this, a voice echoed over the speakers. “… Hellooooooooo? Hello? Hi! Hello…” The voice sounded like that of a child, but something about it was just… Unpleasant. There was nothing objectionable about it, it simply made me feel disturbed, for no discernible reason. “You can hear me, right? Um, I’m still getting everything ready, so please be patient! In the mean time, can you guys just get to know each other? Thanks!” The harpsichord sounded again, this time in a descending tone, to signify the end of the announcement. Meanwhile, everyone was even more confused. The earlier commotion was now back to it’s original silent state. None of us knew what to say, because known of us knew anything more than the rest of us. After a bit, finally, one of us spoke again. “Alright, I know that we’re all real worried about… This.” This time, “For now, it’s probably best to do what that… Voice… Said to do. It’s probably some spooky scary initiation ceremony meant to make us get to know each other, y’know?” Yet another pause, this time including us looking around at each other for a bit, before deciding that there wasn’t really anything else we could do but introduce ourselves to each other. We ended up moving about and interacting with each other in short one-on-one conversations, which, honestly, introducing ourselves to the whole rest of the class would have been quicker, but protesting against the method wasn’t really worth the trouble. The first person I ended up interacting with was a girl with long, blonde hair who stood a couple inches taller than me. She wore a dark maroon shirt, the kind that leaves your shoulders bare, and a mauve skirt, along with a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses on her forehead. She had approached me before I had approached her, really. “So, what’s your name?” She was straight to the point in asking that, definitely. “My name… Is Jane. Jane Attebury.” “Look, I don’t need to know your surname. This isn’t, like, a business meeting or something.” She placed a hand on her hip before continuing. “I’m Sadie. They call me the Ultimate Clique Girl.” Yeah, I forgot to introduce my talent. “I’m…” Do I have to say it? “A conceptual artist…” “Cool.” It was easy to tell by the look on her face that she didn’t know what that is. “Very cool.” She walked off to find another person, and I was left to wonder what an Ultimate Clique Girl would even be. I guess a girl who’s really popular or something? Moving along, I ended up talking to the closet boy from earlier. Getting a closer look at him, I could see his hair was styled almost like a pair of cat ears. Other than that detail, he wore a white shirt with a chest pocket, which had a red exclamation mark on it, and he also wore a pair of khakis. He still had that same smug expression from when he popped out of the closet. He snapped his fingers (for some reason?), and introduced himself. “Jo Leary. Ultimate Actor. You’ve heard of me, right?” He chuckled. “No, I haven’t.” He froze up as I said this, the same smug expression being held, just this time it was trembling as it masked a shattered ego. “That’s… Fine. Understandable. I haven’t been on the scene too long, but it also probably won’t be too long until I’m famous, I bet. I’d, uh, I’d love to learn about you, though!” “Oh. I’m Jane… And I’m a conceptual artist…” He had the same look that Sadie did when I told her that. “Ah. Good for you. Great. Uhm… So, are we moving on then?” “… Yeah…” I decided that I should probably seek out people who seem the most intriguing first, simply out of plain curiosity. Hence, I approached the exceedingly tall boy who was leaning against a wall in the corner of the room, who was wearing some weird old pioneer outfit, like they did in the early history of the U.S. He had some amount of blonde hair peeking out from beneath his raccoon skin hat, a shirt to match the pioneer look, a black coat going over it, and black jeans and boots. He also had a belt, with holsters at the side, each holding a gun. Well, no points for guessing what this guy’s talent was. This time, I was the first to introduce myself. “Nice to meet you.” I outstretched my hand. “My name is Jane Attebury, and I’m a conceptual artist…” “The Ultimate Conceptual Artist, right?” For some reason, he spoke like a cowboy, which would have seemed weird, but it explained the guns. “I mean, all of us’re ultimates.” “… Yeah… I guess… How about you?” “Name’s Cody, but most folks call me Rocky. My talent just so happens to make me the Ultimate Marksman.” Big surprise there. “And yeah, these’re real.” He said, pulling out his revolver, as if it show it off. It wasn’t anything special, it was like any other gun, really. “… Loaded?...” “Loaded. Y’never know when you might be needin’ them.” Well, that’s definitely safe, not like anything bad could come out of that or anything. I figured it might be a good idea to end the conversation there. Next, I spoke to the same boy who had addressed us as a group earlier, just after the announcement. He has a mop of black hair, wore a grey suit with his tie tucked in, and trousers of the same colour. Also, his eyebrows were really curved for a guy. It was almost impressive. Wait, hang on, do I know him? “James McKenzie,” he began as he stretched out his hand, “Bassist and singer of the Beatups.” I supposed this was the Ultimate Rock Star I had read about before, though he didn’t mention the talent as opposed to his band membership. Really, how could he? The Beatups were a massive sensation at the time, I was honestly surprised I hadn’t recognised him. I shook his hand, a bit disoriented from meeting someone famous. “Hello… I’m Jane Attebury, a con… The Ultimate Conceptual Artist.” “A con?” He snickered. “Kidding, it’s fine. Besides, one of my bandmates knows a modern artist.” “Oh? What’s she like?” “Can’t stand her.” Oh. “Look, you can just do whatever you want, it’s fine. Nothing wrong with what you do. Whatever makes you happy, y’know.” He sounded sincere, but it was hard for me not to feel like he was being at least a little pretentious. At least he knows what conceptual art is in the first place, although I definitely wanted to move on to the next person after that. Still looking for the more unique individuals in the room (All of them were kind of strange, really… Including myself.), I next talked with the one who was freaking out a little about the door being locked. I could now see that he wore a headband around his flowing dark hair, which ran down to his shoulders. He wore a baggy brown shirt and blue jeans with a belt. I was able to get a closer look at his weird necklace-amulet-thing, which had a large cyan crystal embedded in the central amulet-thing. I admit, it was kind of rude, but I had to ask what that thing was before his name and talent. I just sort of… Pointed at it and said “That?” “It’s a healing crystal,” he responded, “and it helps my spiritual and mental wellbeing stay at it’s peak.” Oh. He’s a hippie. “I’m Dan, the Ultimate New Age Spiritualist. You?” “I’m Jane. A conceptual artist.” “Ooh… That’s chill. I’d love to see some of your stuff… Yeah…” Well, it was nice to have a more positive reaction, but I didn’t exactly have any art pieces with me, and it’s not like I carry brochures about myself or something. “Yeah, when this whole thing ends, whatever it is.” “… Yeah. It’ll end. We’ll be safe. We’re safe. We’re not in danger. Yes. It’s going to be fine.” … So much for mental wellbeing. Figuring that I might need a break from “unique individuals”, I approached the most normal-looking person in the room, a slightly of short boy of a robust build, wearing a white shirt, a green apron, and grey trousers. He also had brown hair, in a bowl cut. I’m not a big fan of that style, but it’s not like I should pass judgement on him for it or something. He was also holding a container, with a mouse inside. He was smiling, happy to see me, I guess. I mean, it was weird for anyone to smile right now. “Hello!”, he began, “My name’s Terry Hampshire and I’m the Ultimate Blacksmith!” While some of the past few people outstretched their hand, Terry basically grabbed it and shook it himself. “If there’s anything you need from me, don’t feel bad asking!” “U-um, that’s fine! You don’t have to worry!... I’m called Jane, and I’m a conceptual artist…” “Oh, an artist? Okay! If you need materials to work with, I’ve probably got them! You can ask any time at all!” And, immediately, he left and was on to somebody else, as if he was trying to finish as quickly as possible. Great, just when I thought that he’d be normal. Immediately after that hand-shaking experience, my other hand was being shaken, from below this time. “Hiiiii! My name’s Amber!” This was the small, blonde girl from before. Up close, she was even smaller, looking like she was below five feet in height. She had a ponytail, tied up in a green bow, and a purple dress, which looked like she had taken it straight out of Alice in Wonderland. She also wore stockings up to her knees and old fashioned shoes. Really, she felt less like a high schooler and more like a little girl who had just travelled in time from the late 19th century. Using the hand that wasn’t shaking mine, she clutched a chubby plush penguin to her side. “I’m the Ultimate Seamstress, by the way. And his name is Mr. Penpen!” She held up the penguin and picked his flipper up, making it wave about. “Hello! Do you have any tasty fishies?”, Amber continued, putting on a silly voice. “Hello… I’m Jane… Did you… Skip a few grades or something, little girl?” “Huh? Noooooo… I’m fifteen!” Wait, what? “I know I’m short, but that’s a bit much…” She pouted a bit. “You didn’t even mention your talent…” “Oh, yeah. I’m a conceptual artist.” “The Ultimate Conceptual Artist, right?” Oh, I’ve been corrected again. Well, it doesn’t feel correct, honestly. “Whatever it is you do, I’m sure you do it very very well!” “H-heh… Maybe…” Looking down at her, I could see her smiling brightly. Well, even if I don’t think of myself as talented, at least she does. “Anyway, I gotta say hi to more nice people now! Byeeeee!” And she was off to someone else. Halfway through now, and they weren’t getting any more normal, that’s for sure. Well, I’m not exactly normal either, but, eh, I dunno. This next one was even stranger than the preceding students. She was a girl, a couple inches taller than me, with dyed red hair and red eyes. Well, they were mostly red, but they seemed to sparkle, like some sort of kaleidoscope. It was mesmerising, so mesmerising that I wouldn’t have noticed her outfit, a black coat over a shirt that looked to be made of… The same sort of material as newspaper. Paper, that is. She also wore a red cape, and two belts across her waist with various vials of liquids, each having a different colour. Aside from this, she also had black leggings and black laced boots that reached up to her knees. So, I was just sort of staring at her. Eventually, she made a strange signal with her hand, her thumb, index, and pinkie fingers outstretched. I just sort of stared in confusion, until she brought it back down again. “Sorry, I was just checking something. My name is Lucy Rotkappen.” She flapped her cape a little, as if trying to look cool or something. “And my title is the Ultimate Alchemist.” I stared for a bit, still dazed. “… I’m… Jane… A… The Ultimate Conceptual Artist.” I figured that I should probably let my stranger side show around her. Usually I restrained it, but if she was odd like this, then… “… So, what do you think of…” I couldn’t really think of anything strange and philosophical to yap on about, though. I was too… Something about her. “… I think it’s great.” She pointed towards where I had been looking. Well, I had just been looking to my side in thought, not at anything in particular. So here she was, pointing at a wall for some reason. “Absolutely splendid.” It wasn’t like she was talking about a wallpaper, it was completely blank and white, after all. “… Great, yes, it’s great. I might… Head somewhere else. Bye bye…” I left to speak with someone else… Talking to her makes me feel a little peculiar… The next person was the same long-haired, masked girl form before. I could now see that the mask had what was basically the number 3 turned on it’s side, as if to form a smile looking like a cat. Aside from that, she wore a purple hoodie and long, dark pants. Of everyone in the room, she seemed like she was the most out of it, and the closest to falling asleep. “My name is Jane. I’m the Ultimate Conceptual Artist. Hello.” She rubbed her eyes in response. “I’m Mia… And I’m…” She chuckled a bit before continuing. “The Ultimate Lazy Student… I still think that sounds pretty funny, haha.” So, it looks like I had found the so-called Lazy Student, which still sounded weird. “And… What does a lazy student… Do?” “Nothing. I do nothing, really.” She stretched a bit. “Nngh… Apparently it’s because I can get perfect marks on all my work without doing any study or putting in effort.” Well, I suppose that’s a talent, I guess. “Alright. Is there anything else you’d like to talk about, or?...” “Nope. Bye.” Moving on, I saw someone… Certainly interesting. He was a boy, a tall one, not as tall as the other tall one, but a tall one nonetheless. He wore a green tunic, trousers, and cap. The cap had a red star on it, while the shirt had two pockets on each side, the lower ones being slightly longer. Along with this, he wore military boots, and had a small red book lying in one of the upper pockets. “Good day, comrade!” Oh no. He calls people comrade. That’s never a good sign. “… Hello… My name is. Jane, and I’m the Ultimate Conceptual Artist.” “Excellent to hear! Tell me, does any of it expose the follies of the system and deconstruct the suffering inherent to the current state of our society?” He spoke a bit quickly, as if he was trying to make the most of whatever time he had. “Well, it’s more of a personal thing stemming from my own experiences as a person, actually.” “Ah, I see. If you ever change your mind, just ask me for more information!” He handed a pamphlet to me. “My name is Robin Hazelwood, the Ultimate Revolutionary, and everything else you need to know is in that exceedingly useful and informative pamphlet! Now, I must promptly continue spreading the word among this class!” And with that, he went off, just as promptly as he said he would. The next person to meet was a short girl, with short blonde hair, who wore a paper sailor’s hat, along with a dark grey shirt and black pants. The shirt had bold white text saying “wake up”, in capital letters. She also had an X on her forehead, which either was tattooed or just done in permanent marker. “So!” She started, before I had a chance to say anything. “What do you know?” “… About?...” “About this! How did we get here?” “None of us know…” She sighed, looking quite cross. “That’s just what you want me to think, isn’t it?” “I-I don’t understand? What are you talking about?...” “… Fine, I’ll explain. You see, I’m called the Ultimate Conspiracy Theorist. It’s a stupid label since it’s… Not a theory, it’s true!” “What is?” “The theory! The theory’s true!” “You just said-“ “Look, I don’t have all day! I just… You want my name, don’t you? Will you say what you’re hiding after that?” “I’m not hiding anything…” “… Fine. My name’s Charlotte.” “Nice to meet you… My name’s-” Before I could finish, Charlotte was already interrogating someone else on the other side of the room. Oh well. There weren’t too many left now. The next person was a girl, I guess. I mean, she was really really tall for a girl. She was a brunette, and her hair reached down to her shoulders. It also had a white flower resting in it. She wore a blue and white maid’s uniform, along with a black ribbon on her collar, as well as long white gloves and white stockings. She did an old-fashioned curtsy before introducing herself. “Good day. I am Molly, of House Devon. It is a pleasure to be of your acquaintance.” Well, at least she’s polite. “I happen to be the Ultimate Maid, ehe~” Well, I could gather that from her outfit, but it seems that she was just trying to brag or something. “Y-yes, nice to meet you. My name is Jane Attebury, and I’m the Ultimate Conceptual Artist.” “Ah… Not exactly a solid income, is it? How much do you usually sell for?” I…. I hadn’t actually sold anything yet… I mean, I was still just a school kid… I… Just sort of… Lied… “… Um… F-fifty thousand dollars… About that…” “Ahh~ So you are accomplished, eh?~” She put a hand on my shoulder, causing me to almost jump out of my shoes. “Nice to see someone who’s accumulating wealth so impressively and so quickly! A lot of the people around here aren’t quite as impressive… Speaking of, I only have a couple more of them to deal with, so… Toodaloo!~” She walked off, smiling so much that I could have sworn she was about to start skipping or something. Only two people left, I next approached a small boy looking to be about 5 feet who was sitting down in a corner. He had green hair with a noticeable strand sticking up, almost like a little sprout, and a white button up shirt, along with brown trousers with suspenders reaching over his shoulders. He had a potted venus fly trap to his side, and was holding a notebook. As I reached him, his face turned towards me rather abruptly. “Name?” Well, that’s a bit cold. “J-Jane… I’m the Ultimate Conceptual Artist…” After hearing me, he looked back in his book and wrote something down. Peeping over, I could see it was a list of people’s names. He hadn’t bothered writing the talents, though. Not taking long to write “Jane”, he turned to me again. “I am Archie. I am the Ultimate Botanist.” Immediately, he went back to staring away from me, sometimes at his book, a lot of the time at the plant. I must admit, being looked at less than a plant can make you feel a bit jealous. “… Okay… I’ll… Talk to someone else now?” “That would be the best course of action.” He spoke in such a monotone way… I guess I should follow that course of action, though. I had saved this person for last for a reason. It was the girl in the bright red soldier’s uniform (it looked like something Napoleon would have worn…) with the short, blonde hair. She even held a musket by her side, because apparently one student having arms on them wasn’t enough. As I looked at her, she… Did a salute… “Mary Bonaparte. Ultimate Re-enactment Soldier.” Ah, just a re-enactment? That explains the old-fashioned gear. “So, the gun isn’t real then?” “No. Of course not. It’s real, accurately and faithfully reproduced based on weapons of the time period, and in complete working condition.” “… Is it loaded?” “Get on with telling me who you are or you might find out.” … “… Look, I’m feeling impatient. I’m not going to actually kill you, okay?” “… My name is Jane. I’m the Ultimate Conceptual Artist.” “Noted.” With this, she turned as if to find someone else… Only to realise that she, and for that matter, all of us, had now met each other as advised. There wasn’t really anything left to do. Fortunately (or unfortunately, considering what was going to happen in just a bit), the sound of a door unlocking echoed about the snow-white room. The jingle played again, that uncanny voice returning. “Ahem! All preparations have been made! Please, will all students attend the assembly hall at once!... It’s on the same floor as you, don’t act like you can’t find it. It’s through the two big double doors, okay? See you there… Uwehehehe!” The announcement came to a close. That laugh… It’s… Who the hell laughs like that?... But, despite how creepy this whole thing was getting, a few of us left to said hall pretty quickly. All of us ended up following the voices orders, figuring it was the only thing we could do. And boy, nothing could have prepared us for what was waiting there. Continued in Prologue (3).